He's Gone
by andy112138
Summary: Ever since Holy Rome left, Italy has been waiting for his return. Each day he hopes to be reunited with Holy Rome at the meadow he last saw him, but will soon have his faith tested when he meets a sorrowful boy. Will he keep waiting forever or will he finally lose hope and give up on Holy Rome?


**A/N: Hey! I'm not dead! I've just kinda been on hiatus since I've made myself pretty busy and I've been running dry on ideas. I've been gone for almost a year, but I'm back and I believe my writing has improved, so there's no need to be sad anymore (if anyone even was sad).**

**Okay, so this fanfic chapter has been written in my phone for like a really long time and I recently edited it and finally decided to publish it. However, it might be a while before I have the next chapter ready since I take my sweet sweet time writing my stories.**

**Without further ado, I leave you to the fanfic!**

**Disclaimer: Hetalia is not mine (sadly).**

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><p>The young happy-go-lucky nation skipped from Austria's house all the way to a peaceful meadow. Green grass covered the entire area, which seemed to go on endlessly. The light blue sky met with the green in the distance. Small flowers shyly peeked from the earth, facing the sun and embracing its warmth.<p>

He went to the meadow every day because it was very special to him. It was the place where he last saw his first love: Holy Roman Empire.

Daily, the young Italian waited in vain for his love to return to him, never losing hope. Eventually, he picked up the habit of painting a picture or two during his wait and then go back home. Then, he would try again the next day with unshaken faith and hope of being reunited with Holy Rome.

One day his unbreakable hopes and dreams were finally shattered.

It started off as a beautiful sunny day, just like any other. Italy skipped to the cherished green lands as his hair curl bounced and his dress swayed with every motion. This time he didn't have his art supplies with him. He just felt like admiring nature's gifts for the day and heading back before sunset, just as he promised his current caretaker, Austria.

Italy started to hum some happy tunes he heard Austria play not too long ago. Almost immediately, they became dissonant as they clashed with the sounds of nearby sobs and sniffles. The young Italian stopped in his tracks and glanced towards the direction where the sorrowful sounds were coming from.

In his vision appeared another young boy who was sitting on the grass with his back hunched over and his face buried in his hands. His shoulders heaved with every sob that escaped from his throat.

The boy had snow white hair, which matched with the color of his skin and attire. He seemed to be slightly older than Italy.

The Italian couldn't help but feel pity for the poor soul. He hated seeing people upset because it made him feel sad too.

Italy walked up to the boy and tapped his shoulder lightly. "Excuse me, mister. Are you okay?" he asked with concern.

The boy turned to face Italy. Fresh tears streamed from a pair of swollen scarlet eyes and rolled down his pale cheeks. He sniffed and wiped his tears before he responded, "Ja, I'm fine. Don't worry about me."

Italy sat next the boy, earning a small startled jump from the latter. "Please don't cry anymore. Just tell me what's wrong and I'll try to help you," he told the albino.

The boy gave Italy a weak smile. "Danke, but I don't want to burden you with my problems. I don't think there's anything you can do to help me anyways," he responded sadly.

Italy's eyes welled up with small tears. It broke his heart to see someone in such an emotionally crippled state.

The Italian nation rested his head on the pale boy's shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. The boy looked at Italy with shocked, crimson eyes.

He eventually gave the small brunette a soft pat on the head and a weak smile.

"Danke," he said in a weak, but grateful tone.

"You're welcome," Italy said with a reassuring smile.

The snowy-haired boy stared at Italy for a while, seeming to analyze him.

"Sir? Is there something wrong?" Italy asked.

The boy looked away quickly. "Oh no, it's nothing. It's just that…" He trailed off and sighed. Then he returned his gaze at the younger Italian.

"You're Italy, right?"

The Italian was taken aback. "S-si! That's me! How'd you know?"

The boy glumly stared at his brown boots. He monotonously answered, "Because my bruder talked about you a lot and showed me a painting of you. But that was right before he-" The boy started to sob again.

Italy gave the older-looking boy a comforting hug and rubbed soothing circles on his back.

The boy buried his face into Italy's tiny shoulder as his loud sobs became muffled by the fabric of the younger nation's sleeve. His tears began to stain Italy's dress, but the Italian didn't mind; he simply kept rubbing the boy's back.

After a while, the boy wore himself out from sobbing and fell asleep on Italy's shoulder. The young nation only smiled and stroked the boy's soft white hair.

They stayed like that until the sun began to set. The Italian watched the sky with awe as it became painted with vibrant shades of blue, pink, and orange. He gently nudged the sleeping boy to wake him up. His crimson eyes fluttered open and looked wearily at the Italian.

"Look," Italy said, pointing to the horizon. "Isn't it beautiful?"

The boy directed his ruby gaze towards where the Italian's miniature finger pointed. A small amazed gasp escaped from his pale lips.

"Wow. It's so beautiful," the boy said in absolute awe. "It's almost as awesome as me," he added with a smug smirk.

He looked at Italy again. "Thank you…for everything," he said with a small smile.

The Italian returned the smile and gave the boy a hug. The latter returned the friendly hug as his smile widened.

Their peaceful moment had to come to an end when they heard rushed footsteps heading their direction. The pair of feet stopped not too far from the two young boys.

"Italy!" an upset voice scolded. "What do you think you're doing? Do you even know what time it is? You said you'd be back _before_ sunset!"

They broke their hug abruptly and looked towards the source of the angry voice to find that its owner was Austria. His arms were crossed and his foot was impatiently tapping on the ground. When he saw who Italy was with, he let out a gasp.

"Italy…what are you doing with _him_?" Austria interrogated as he pointed an accusing finger at the other boy.

"Oh shut up! It's not like you're the person I want to see right now, either," the boy spat at Austria.

Austria's gaze hardened with anger. The boy returned the glare with intensity.

The forgotten Italian spoke with a trembling voice. "I-I came out here to see if Holy Rome came back, like I've done every day. Then I saw this boy crying and it made me sad. I didn't want him to be sad anymore so I decided to comfort him. Mi dispiace! I didn't mean to be late!"

The boy winced at the mention of Holy Roman Empire. Tears threatened to fall from his eyes when he heard that the Italian was waiting for his lover's return.

The Austrian's gaze softened with sympathy. "Prussia? You were crying? That is unlikely of you. Something terrible must've happened!"

"Oh! You're Prussia? I heard a lot about you," the Italian said with a tone of revelation, oblivious to the serious atmosphere surrounding the two older nations.

Prussia didn't hear Italy's comment. He stared at Austria with emotionless tear-filled eyes.

"Prussia? Are you okay?" Austria asked with serious concern.

Italy, unsure of the situation, asked, "What's wrong?"

Prussia said in a broken whisper, "Holy Rome is…" A tear rolled down his face.

Austria's eyes widened. "Are you serious?"

Prussia nodded as tears continued to stream down his face.

"What happened to Holy Rome?" Italy asked with extreme anxiety. He needed to know the condition of the boy he was in love with.

Prussia wordlessly stared at the ground. He didn't want to be the one to break the news to the young nation.

Austria caught on and realized that he was the one who had to tell Italy. He let out a big sigh and adjusted his glasses.

"Italy, Holy Rome is…" Austria trailed off, unsure of how the young Italian was going to react to the heavy information.

"What happened to Holy Rome?" Italy repeated, desperately needing an answer.

Austria looked at Prussia sadly and then reverted his gaze to Italy.

"He's…he's dead."

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><p><strong>AN: Haha! I leave you with an evil cliffhanger! Muehuehue...I hope y'all enjoyed what you read! Please feel free to leave reviews (I'll try my best to answer them) and don't be afraid to favorite and follow!**


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